"He sailed down-river following a dream from a dragon, fighting great beasts for five ardous years. Desperation sure makes our heroes do strange things. But thank Zaba for her rivers, we're all here because of it."
As told by Engwa Hodenay's companions and written into his magnum opus.
"He sailed down-river following a dream from a dragon, fighting great beasts for five ardous years. Desperation sure makes our heroes do strange things. But thank Zaba for her rivers, we're all here because of it."
Our founder's men cried and clammered to him, giving him a crown and him wishing a king. But, he said, that no one is a king besides his God and that the men should listen to the shaman who recounts the stories of home. (...) Then, once he had completed his last task, our threw himself against the bed only to be took from this world and never woke again. Besides him lay a great scroll a will, which is what we read from when I was a girl
"After years and years of fighting over farming villages are what bit of the river was their, a murder of a boatman from Yayqa lit the water alight. The next thing the scholar knew, there were scared boys coming to his door with calvary outside his house to try suit them in armour." ... "That scholar didn't see the end of the war. A scholar who doesn't live in barracks or the library is an old man. 40 years later the Peacemaker came to Pya to set up his court which would end the war."
Though I'm a bit out of me depth on this, I can spin you a yarn about a man who called himself Kel Yala. He was jilted want to be gentleman scholar from the northern city. Jilted was he and so angry, he fled from the valley and entered your homeland to learn from the ruins of the Maroan age. Then he returned and brought his laws to the Peacemaker and nobles became converting by the dozen. Though if you wish for a monologue, dear Kaōk will give you one.
"My friend, you ask why we practicse Niua in our strange fashion. I answer. My ancestors in Kaōkio were commanded by their Niua grandmaster to convert or be forbidden from ever entering the scholarly halls again. Of course, wise men do not allow themselves to be pressured by a layman, so they refused. Then when the shamans caught wind from their huts inbetween reading parms, there was iron-hot anger. And at its peak, a particularly firebrand scholar let the palace of the grandmaster go aflame. He was put to death of course, with much sorrow by the common folk and after years of arguments and passionate refusuals, an official drafted them an acceptable compromise. They could remain practicing their riutals but the scholars shall pertain to Niua rituals and shamans shall never enter the govermental quarter. So they began to convert in droves.
"In Kaiwo, the last vestigage of our old faith, the non-Niua grandmaster's son marries a common girl who'd taken Kastav and his brothers' covenant. And so the people began their slow conversion. They began to rewrite the law-codes and to shave their beards and throw the stench of perfuming oil into the air."
In Wakina, an Ugane princess stole the people hearts and took her pleas for the people to accept the gods. So, they burnt their incence and stupid shamanistic ornaments and began to leave the shaman's huts where palms were read and nettle-tea was given out to spill secrets. Her and her groom despised one another, and she died when she saw her husband in bed with another man. But they had children so none of this matters."
"I might be your humble guide who communes with the common folk, Engwa, for your command of the language is terrible. But I do have a fascination with our past. There was centuries of no texts. No texts, I tell you. It seems we lost our love for our holy tongue and the script we have forged from the cloth of gods."
My grandfather sat me on his lap in the feasting hall on the growth of new years. He told me a story his grandfather had told him. He said of a day where the moon and son were crossed with each other. He said that this was an omen. An omen scholars and our moribund shamans were worried about. And for good reason, good reason I say! But I shall not talk you anymore, my voice will go hoarse. If you wish for more, I need to drink some more.
Has anyone told you of the omen? No? That's a story for another time and for another person. But I digress, you asked to tell me of that ruin you passed on your voyage upriver. Well it was probably destroyed by the Valley War. Tension boiled over after a diet-king down south died and so we went back to fighting like it was the Echur War all over. We got it out of our system, thankfully in 50 years.
"Betwixt wars, a scholar heard of a eastern invention and began to contact friends of friends. He found the printing press and brought it to Otlera where he began to work tirelessly on arranging symbols and rows and printing his own books."
"In the valley war, some thoughts-in-the-sky scholars founded the language academy that never shuts up about how we all speak our language wrong. It is annoying, especially when you have to coach a scholar's daughter through Qaqe for something or other. I apparently talk like an Amtar peasant."
The publishing of a Summer of the River Peoples by Engwa Hodenay caused a great commotion in the Empire and the fascination with the Otlera has yet to cease.